


Beca Mitchell's guide on how to escape an arranged marriage (or: how one bad decision resulted in more bad decisions. who would have known)

by Save_the_cookies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Author has no idea how a ship or a crew works, Chloe is more like PP2, F/F, Pirate!Chloe, and also doesn't know how pirates talk, could be out of character you have to tell me, everyone is a pirate except Beca and Jesse but seriously who wants Jesse to be a pirate, period-typical violence, uhm this is my first work i hav no idea how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Save_the_cookies/pseuds/Save_the_cookies
Summary: Beca escapes an arranged marriage through sneaking on a ship. (Yes, that is how she wants to portrait this whole thing. She didn't fall asleep, this is all part of her plan.)Too bad her original plan (ehem) of revealing herself after a few miles on sea gets thrown overboard quite literally as another fellow blind passenger is fed to the sharks after making his appearance known. Now she has to come up with a new plan to survive the who knows how many weeks on the ship while trying not to get caught by the crew and the captain. Seriously, she should have just taken the fucking horse.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 33
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm… Hi. This is my first fanfiction ever. (If you don't count writing Warrior Cats fanfic at the age of twelve. But nobody does. At least not me.)  
> English isn't my first language (yay!) and sometimes it's hard for me to get the words in the right order. I also have no idea how updating this thing will work out. And i have no idea how english people talked back then. I have no idea how to write dialogue. You could just say i have no idea of anything.

“And this, Mr. Swanson, is my wonderful daughter Rebeca.“

Beca curtsied and forced a smile at her introduction. The young man in front of her was tall, had brown hair and kind eyes. He looked good in his admiral suit. Any other girl might have swooned over him, but Beca felt nothing.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mitchell. I heard tales of your beauty, but still you managed to steal my breath.“ Her mind cringed at the one-liner, but nevertheless she hold her hand out for him to take, and he kissed it. His hands felt rough, and his lips were a tad too wet. Beca tried to hold back a grimace. Her eyes met her father’s, and she could see how he urged her to say something. Beca sighed internally. She would have to make an effort, for at least to please her father.

“And I heard tales of your bravery while fighting the pirates who capture the ships of honest traders and merchants. We are happy to welcome you as our guest for the next two weeks.“ Mr. Swanson smiled and turned to talk to Mr. Mitchell, who seemed relieved his daughter played docile for the moment. Beca used the moment to wipe her hand on her dress to get the slobber of it without anyone noticing. The sharp glance her father threw her told her she wasn't successful.

“Well, Mr. Swanson, if you would like to follow me please, my latest ship arrived just yesterday and it brought back a wonderful new tea that the maid is currently preparing.“ He opened the door to his office. “While we wait for it to be served, we could talk about the business, if you’d like to do so.“

The admiral hesitated. Beca could see the question in his eyes as he turned to her. “Won’t Miss Mitchell join us for tea?“ Her father’s gaze fell on her. “My daughter still has to finish her knitting lesson before dinner. You will see her again then.“

Swanson seemed to want to argue with that but thought better of it. “Of course. Shall we?“ And the two men disappeared in the office. Beca sighed. The same procedure again.

-

The Mitchell’s were a well-respected trading family. Beca’s great grandfather had started the business with just one ship and a few crewmembers he called his friends. After nearly thirty years of sailing through most oceans to buy exotic things he could sell for profit, he returned to his hometown and started a family.

After his death, his son took over the company, and then his son. Now, the Mitchell business included twenty ships with experienced captains, and a good image all over the world.

With time, trading meant more office and less sailing and adventure. Beca couldn’t understand how her father never even set one foot on a ship while leading such a wealthy company. She longed to see other cultures and different people, but he seemed satisfied sitting behind his desk and looking at contracts and numbers.

As a kid she would sit on a box on the port and watch ships return from foreign countries with weird food and animals she’d never seen before. Crewmembers of her father’s ships would tell stories about other cultures and sea monsters as tall as twenty grown men while she and the other kids from town hung on their every word. Mr. Mitchell had not been happy she spent more time on the port than in a classroom with her studies for a “high-class lady“, but Beca‘s mother had encouraged her excitement and curiosity for everything she didn’t know or couldn’t explain.

The trips came to a slow end after her mother had died when she was eleven. Her father didn’t outright forbid her to visit the harbour, but Beca knew he disapproved, and she didn’t want to load more sorrow on his already pained heart.  
Her visits to the port stopped, but the longing for adventure and the sea did not.

-

  
Dinner was a quiet affair, just like every other meal she would take for the next week while Mr. Swanson tried to win her over. He was charmant, well-behaved and sometimes even (not her opinion, the maid’s) funny. Beca hated every minute she had to spend with him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. Beca was sure he was a nice man, a good man, and he would make quite the spouse for a wife who would like to listen to his (boring) stories, but he also stood for the loss of her freedom. Marriage meant settling down, living in a house in a town where everything was the same, having kids and participating in the high-class society she despised. This wasn’t her cup of tea. This wasn’t even her cup. So Beca did everything she could to weird him out without being outright rude.

She knew this was childish and naive, but she did not care at this moment. Better to behave like you want to if you have no idea when you’ll be freed of your freedom to do so.

-

Her father quickly realized what was happening. After her sixth time of “just having to go to the library real quick because I forgot something for my lesson“ despite having said lessons only two times a week, he sat with her one evening.

Beca was reading a new book she got from a friend when he knocked on her door. She sighed as he turned around to close the door again. Their eyes met for a second, then she continued to read her book. He looked frustrated. Beca knew what he was going to say before he started.

“Beca... We have to talk about this marriage eventually.“ He took two steps closer to her, then stopped. “You can’t just run away every time Mr. Swanson tries to talk to you for more than five minutes.“

Beca raised her eyebrows, watching her father over the edge of her book. “I can, actually. He only talks about how great it is that our families will unite. It’s boring.“ Her father made a frustrated sound and started pacing.

“He is an admiral, I don’t know what’s boring about that. You could at least make an effort to _try_ and look like you’re interested.“

“But he is! The way he walks, the way he talks, even the way he tells stories about fights against pirates is boring!“ Beca closed the book.

“The last man was too loud, and the one before that was too arrogant, and this one is too boring!“ They glared at each other from their corners of the room, unwilling to back down. It was Beca who broke the silence first.

“I don’t want to marry him and waste my life being a good wife. I can take over the business myself, I don’t need a man for that, and you know it“, she whispered while Mr. Mitchell continued pacing through the room.

“Beca“, he pleaded. “You’re going to have to marry eventually, you’re already nineteen. Why not marry a man you know is good?“ He didn’t wait for an answer. Her stomach began to protest against the thought. “He is a respected member of the navy and a gentleman. You won’t get a better match. This is for the best.“

“But-" Beca watched with wide eyes as he nodded to himself, seemingly made up his mind. „Yes, this will be the best for you and the business. You will tell him tomorrow after dinner that you accept his offer for marriage.“

The stomach ache got stronger. “You can’t be serious, father.“ Mr. Mitchell threw a look over his shoulder as he made his way back to the door.

“I am, Rebeca. And I expect you to act like a grown lady for once, thinking ahead for your future _and_ the company.“ He placed one hand on the door handle, but didn’t open the door yet. “I know you don’t like it, but there is no other way around. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.“

Beca watched paralyzed as he left her in the room, wide-eyed and with a terrible stomach ache. She was in need of a plan.

  
-

  
After three hours of walking around her room and tossing and turning in her bed Beca realized she wasn’t in need of a plan, she was in need of a miracle. There was no reason to turn down Swanson and doing so could cast a negative light on her, and therefore on the trading company. She despised the workings of high-class society.

Beca let out a frustrated growl. She couldn’t think of a possible good outcome of this situation she found herself in. Maybe a walk would make things a bit easier. And even if not, the cold night air would at least calm her down for a few moments.

With a made-up mind, Beca sat up. Other clothes were needed.

  
-

  
The bar in the small village was loud and run-down. Beca loved it.

The short night walk to the boundary of the garden she wanted to take had continued to the boundary of the property and then all the way down to the small village. What could she say? Not her fault her feet didn’t want to go back.

And watching the patrons was a great distraction from her dilemma.

Though it was getting late, and the gentlemen at the counter got increasingly rowdy. She shouldn’t test her luck of not only no one recognizing her, but also no one bothering her while she drank her beer in a small booth near the entrance. Not lady like, but she didn’t care. Lady like her ass.

Beca fished a few coins out of the small pocket her trousers had and made her way to the door. The moment she wanted to open it, a sweaty hand grabbed her shoulder from behind to turn her around.

“Heyo ma lady, you wanna leave already?”

Beca frowned. The man was wretched, with oily hair and a pot belly. He wavered while he tried to look at her. His friends at the bar laughed and whistled.

“You wanna come drink with us? I swear we’ll make it worth your time”, he grinned sleazily.

“Let go.”

Beca tried to collect her arm, but for someone totally wasted he still was stronger than her. She didn’t want to use the small dagger she hid in the waistband of her trousers. That was only for outmost emergencies.

“Ey don’t be like this princess, we’re nice guys.”

“No thank you.” She finally managed to free her arm out of the guy’s grip. “I’m sure you gentlemen have enough fun on your own. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

The guy looked like he wanted to grab her again, but a shout from the bar attracted his attention. “Hey, you saw the new ship that came in today? Heard rumours it is the Cursed Treasure!”

“No way! The Cursed Treasure belongs to the Red Demon. What business should the Red Demon attend to in this shit hole?”

“I saw it with my own eyes! It is the Cursed Treasure!”

“And I say that’s impossible!”

“Are you saying my eyes are shite?!”

“I’m saying your brain is full of it!”

“Arrgh!”

Beca didn’t stay to watch the brawl that exploded in the little shanty. She was out the door before the first glass connected with a skull.

  
-

  
The temperature had decreased since she had entered the hut. Beca tightened the grasp on the old coat she had decided to wear. Since she didn’t want to return just yet, she started to walk to the harbour to see the new ship the drunk men had talked about.

A new ship by itself wasn’t something special, the small village was after all a trading point even though it was a “shit hole”. But a ship that maybe belonged to a pirate? Even if that chance was slim, Beca had to see it.

On her way to the docks she passed the horse stable the smith owned. It should be well after midnight by now, but the horses were still awake. Beca stopped. The shuffling of the animals sparked a thought. It would be so easy to go in there, saddle a horse and leave the village, the company and this damned marriage behind. She was a good rider and, most of the time, a good haggler. Beca was good at convincing. She had escaped marriage two times already.

She could fend for herself. It wouldn’t be easy, but she could manage-

A clattering sound pulled Beca out of her thoughts. She looked back into the small alleyway she had come from. There stood two of the men she had seen in the bar, laughing at a third that had seemingly stumbled over a bucket. One of them looked up and saw her. His face lit up dangerously.

Beca took a step back. Oh no. The bar had provided relative safety with all the other patrons and the barkeeper. This was not the bar anymore. She should take a leave, and fast.  
The man shoved his friend to draw his attention to her while the man at his feet started to hurl in front of a door. They ignored him.

Beca turned around and ran. She had no intention of getting to know these guys better. The sound of feet trampling on cobblestone and her own ragged breathing began to blend in with the sound of small waves, but she didn’t notice. The two men behind her gained ground.

Beca slithered around another corner and stopped perplexed while holding her aching rips. She was at the harbour. The creaking of the ships almost drowned out the panting of the men behind her. Beca started to run again. She had no time.

It was, in hindsight, a really really bad idea to hide on one of the ships. But Beca’s brain was under pressure at the moment, and she wasn’t famous for her ideas in the first place. No one would search for a girl in the stowage of a huge ship, not even two ass-drunk idiots. At least those without a death wish.

Therefore, Beca made herself at home between two dozen sacks of potatoes and a few barrels that smelled like alcohol. She would wait a few minutes till the bummed-out calls on the docks stopped, and then she would sneak off this ship and get home as fast as possible. Just a few minutes…

The moment she blinked her eyes open, Beca could tell something was amiss. The ship moved. Fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well - you're at the end of the first chapter. Obvs. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Leave a kudo or a comment if you want to!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! It was a pain in the ass.
> 
> Also, if you guys want me to add specific tags for something you're uncomfortable with, please go ahead and tell me! I only used tags as a reader till now and I don't really know what might be a no-go for you.

If you had asked Beca a few weeks ago whether god liked her or not, she would have answered something along the lines of ‘I don’t think he bothers with me, but I can’t complain’. And that would have been true. Yes, society and her father expected her to marry a man she didn’t know and didn’t love (and the last one they came up with was boring), but she came from a wealthy family, she lived in a wonderful home, she just had to attend a few lessons per week and was free to do with her remaining time as she pleased. No hard work, some butlers, a few maids, she could read books and maps and she was to inherit a somewhat famous trading company. Beca _certainly_ couldn’t complain.

  
And now she huddled behind barrels and sacks of potatoes on a ship she didn’t know during a trip to god knows where. Yes, she had wanted to sail, but not like this! Beca took a deep breath. No problem – she would work something out.

  
After a few minutes she almost laughed. It was easy, really. Beca would just leave the storage, reveal herself, ask someone where the captain was, and explain her situation. With luck on her side, this ship belonged to the company. She could accompany the captain and the crew on their mercantile expedition, see other cultures and then just return home with the ship while letting her father know all this through a letter. And even if the ship wasn’t owned by the Mitchell’s, Beca could still send a letter and leave at the next port. There she would enjoy her time-limited freedom while her father sent some unlucky soul to bring her home again, where she would persuade her father to let her live in peace without a marriage. Easy. A piece of cake, really.

  
A moment passed, and then another. Beca could hear the crew on deck working – she just had to get up and out of the storage and everything would work itself out. Then why was she hesitating? 

  
Minutes ticked away while shouts and rough laughs from above transpired though the steadfast wood. Occasionally a loud _whuump_ could be heard, like something heavy was dropped from a great height. Curses were thrown around. Beca sat up straighter and tried to decipher the sentences, but no such luck. 

  
Then she froze – those voices weren’t only men. She could hear women too. And not just one or two, many more. The more she listened, the more she noticed that they were as loud as the men and cursed just as coarse.

  
This definitely wasn’t one of her father’s ships. Their crews consisted of men only, one wouldn’t find a living female soul on deck. Well – Beca grimaced – at least while on sea. 

Marine? The thought was immediately pushed aside when another woman swore so furiously that silence followed for a few long seconds. Then: bellowing laughter.

The bustle on deck continued with Beca none the wiser on what kind of ship she had managed to fall asleep. A heavy, constant noise grew louder with every second. Beca was embarrassed to say that she didn’t realize it were footsteps until the person seemed to stop directly above her head. Dust rained down on Becas hair like snow. A second pair of footsteps joined the first, a woman spoke.

“Stace, watcha doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in the quartermaster’s cabin?”

The other person chuckled: “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?”

“Naah, kitchen boy couldn’t handle my amazing ass. And cap asked me to look for something.”

“Uh-hu, sure Ames. Same goes for quartermaster and me.” Laughter, then – 

“Well, since you’re here, you coulda lend me a hand with that door here. Fucking heavy that thing.” The woman called ‘Ames’ walked a few feet to Becas right. Dust continued to trickle down. Becas nose began to itch.

“You mean I pull it up and you stand next to me doing shit?” ‘Stace’ sighed. “Sure. But I want an extra portion this evening.”

Heavy groans could be heard while the woman struggled to open the door. Faint light flooded the storage the moment she succeeded, and one made her way down the stairs to stop in the middle of the room. 

“Y’know, a thank you would’ve been nice”, Stace grumbled as she followed.

The other woman mumbled something along the lines of ‘yeah yeah’ as she began to rummage through one of the wooden boxes. 

Beca stayed huddled behind her barrels as the women began to search for the thing they needed, all the while hearing grumbles of how _an oil lamp would have been nice_ and _why the gofer didn’t do this_. She deemed this situation safe enough to risk a short glance at the two to assess what kind of people she had to deal with.

At first she just saw two backs, leant over the boxes while bickering. One woman seemed voluminous, with blonde hair in some kind of pony tail, while the other was more slender with a bandana. Beca couldn’t make out her hair colour. Both wore worn-out linen shirts and trousers, hold up by wide leather belts. It looked weird, but also – she couldn’t describe it.

The blonde let out a triumphant yell. “Finally! This shit took like forever!” She unbent and thrusted an undefinable object in the others face, which the woman brushed off irritated. Something metallic glinted in the feeble rays of light during the movement. 

Becas breath stocked – there, on her belt, hang a pistol. Why did this woman have a fucking gun? That was bad, no sane captain would le-

“Did you hear that?”

“Hm?” The blonde was already halfway up the stairs, blocking most of the light and throwing a shadow. “What is it?”

“I heard something”, the other woman said. Beca could only see her silhouette, standing very still and listening intently. The silver of her pistol continued glimmering weakly. Beca held her breath.

The blonde seemed to listen for a few seconds, then she shrugged, “I hear nothing. Maybe some rats.” She began climbing the stairs again, stopping when she realized her friend wasn’t following. “Come on Stacie, you’re slower than a pigged-out crocodile.”

That seemed to do the trick – Stacie growled and approached the stairs only to throw a last look back into the shadows of the showage. “We should toss a cat down here”, she said, “can’t have the rats eat all the good stuff.” 

The other laughed. “Good thing we’re on a pirate ship then. Lots of cats ‘round here.”

The door fell closed with a _wuump_. Darkness occupied the showage again and filled Beca with cold fear and hopelessness. She didn’t register the recurring fall of dust as the two women – the two _pirates_ – returned to wherever they were going while she starred into the shadows.

Beca was on a pirate ship – that was bad. More than bad. Pirates weren’t the type of people you could just go up to and ask to drop you off at the next stop. Well, most weren’t, and Beca was not naïve, she had heard all kinds of tales and reports about pirates in the taverns, the village, from her father. More than likely she wouldn’t see the next port alive if someone were to find her down here. And even if she were to survive this… She didn’t want to imagine at what cost.

Maybe, just maybe she could still make herself known as the daughter of a wealthy merchant and wait for her father to pay the ransom. Perhaps the pirates wouldn’t hurt her with the chance of reward, but could she say that with certainty? 

How was she supposed to get out of this mess?

-

The night after her unfortunate discovery was not a pleasant one. Loud cheering and singing had lasted long after the final work on the ship had been done, and when the last occupants finally hit their hammocks, Beca was kept awake by waves that crashed against the sturdy wood of the keel. She had spent the rest of the day thinking about more or less good solutions for her problem, all the while stiffening when someone walked the corridor above her. That didn’t happen as often as one might think, but at the end of the day a small crown of dust and dirt had gathered on top of the brunette’s head. 

And to complete her misery, Beca was cold. Not one of the refreshing colds you felt only on your face and your hands but the cold that bit your skin even under your clothes, crawling into your bones and leaving you shuddering every few minutes. 

The brunette had dragged some potato sacks into the darkest, furthest from the entrance corner she had discovered, behind boxes and barrels that would serve as improvised cover against other probing glances searching for rats or similar pests. Being huddled between sacks that contained food and other questionable things wasn’t exactly comfortable (and it also didn’t smell great), but it was better than sitting on the hard, somewhat damp floor and it was also slightly warmer. Beca could do something against being cold, even if it wasn’t much.

Right now that was the only thing she could do something against. 

After long considerations Beca had decided to wait one or two days instead of acting over-hasty. She could overhear most conversations on deck because the crew talked incredibly loudly, so why not take advantage of this? She could get an idea of what kind of pirates she had to deal with and decide on further strategy according to that, preferably a strategy that wouldn’t leave her in someone’s bed, in the ocean or just dead.

That seemed like the best course of action at this moment. 

-

The best course of action had a small problem, as Beca found out just a few hours into her totally waterproof plan: There was nothing to eat except raw potatoes, and the only halfway drinkable thing resembled diluted beer. The brunette had managed to open one of the barrels with her dagger under strenuous effort and inwardly cheered after seeing the drink, but nearly spat out everything after the horrendous taste had filled her mouth and left her retching.

The sacks let out a squawking noise as Beca threw herself on them. The foul flavour in her mouth wouldn’t leave and her stomach began to make itself felt. She groaned and closed her eyes.

-

Rowdy yelling startled Beca and let her shoot up, disoriented by the surrounding shadows. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was and why she was her. The horrible taste in her mouth hadn’t faded and made her want to barf into a corner and never come out again. 

Bloodcurdling screams blended into the hustle on deck, sending shivers down Becas spine and resonating in her ears. Something was happening on the ship, and she had no idea what it was. 

The pirates seemed to goat each other, hollering and laughing, then the racket died down and only the quieter screams could be heard. Becas ears rang – the silence after all the noise was deafening.

What happened?

“What is the meaning of this?” The voice was unmistakably female, washing over the ship and silencing every other voice that might have spoken up – it was aloof and cold. Nobody answered.

“Well?”

“A stowaway, captain”, one of the braver ones replied. “The kitchen boy found him, he tried to steal a box of salted meat.”

The answer was met with silence. Beca strained to hear what was happening on deck, but the shuffling of feet above her made it difficult to decipher what was said.  
Then the screaming started again, clearer this time because the crowd remained eerily silent.

“Dirty pirate! I’m going to kill you! You’re going to hang!” 

No one seemed to react, only the shuffling got louder. 

“Let me down, you abortions! You will hang! The marine will find you and they will cut your sorry throats and you – “

The following scream of pain send goose bumps all over Becas skin while the crowd over her head laughed.

“I believe we have to teach our guest some manners. Maybe the sea can wash out his trap, whaddaya say?” Agreeing shouts echoed over the ship, someone stroke up a song. “Prepare for the keelhauling!”

Beca could only hug herself close in horror as she heard how the pirates prepared the stowaway for his certain death. She knew of the torturous method of punishment – one of the sailors back home had told her and the other kids about it one afternoon. She and her peers had listened with child-like wonder as the old sailor had talked with dread shining in his eyes, his voice skipping and trembling when he got to the part where the punished man was heaved back on the ship, empty eyes wide open and skin lacerated. For her and her friends it had been just another adventure, a tale among many others, a story to scare little children into going to bed.

And now it was real, with a shouting man and a thunderous crowd singing like this was some kind of celebration, a delightful incident that would make the day a bit more pleasant. Becas stomach growled. 

“All set?”

“Aye!”

“Then do your thing.”

The scream was cut off abruptly by a loud splash – the stowaway had been thrown into the ocean. Dull beats of a drum filled the air while a small group of pirates began to chant, but Beca wasn’t able to decipher the words for the larger part of the crew still continued their song.

A faint scratching could be heard. Something scraped by the sturdy, hard wood of the keel, ploughing through the water and rasping against the shells and barnacles on the exterior of the ship. The chanting grew louder – the pirates yelled _yo-heave-ho_ every time they pulled on the thick rope while the drum set the rhythm for the work. 

The keelhauling seemed to take hours, rough voices chanting and yelling throughout the whole affair. Beca felt sick. She was fairly sure the man wouldn’t make it, he had been under water for at least ten minutes. 

A moment later the brunette could hear something break the water surface – the pirates who had chanted mere minutes before grunted, heaving the man back on deck. The song died down.

“Well…”, the woman spoke, “looks like shark bait to me.” Someone hooted, others laughed, it looked like they were waiting for more orders. 

“Throw him overboard before he starts to stink.” The turmoil started up again, then a splash followed as the crew executed the command. 

The taste of vomit was the only warning Beca got before she spat the last remains of her stomach between two barrels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yay, end of the second chapter. Truly a pain in the ass. (Dialogue. Why do we need it. What is natural, what isn't. I don't know.)
> 
> Good thing Beca knows exactly what kind of pirates she has to deal with now. Pure joy.
> 
> Please tell me if i should leave more space between the paragraphs! I only hit the enter key once, but it looks a bit pinched… 
> 
> Till next time my dudes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup it did take longer but the chapter is longer too! At least 600 words more than the other two!
> 
> ...and I seriously considered making Beca shark bait, but nah.

The air was moist and cold. Beca tried to cover her cough for the umpteenth time since the last three days. It began to hurt – slowly but steadily – and she didn’t know how long she could uphold this whole act of, like, _definitely not_ being on a pirate ship and _definitely not_ asking to get killed. The indefinable brew had sufficed as some kind of drink till now, but the lack of something to eat except raw potatoes developed into a problem that wasn’t this easy to solve. 

  
As if that wasn’t enough already, nightmares had started to plague the brunette. Whole choirs of pirates only waited to taunt her with their shanty while the water surface closed over her head, thick rope dragging the small body deep down into the dark sea – and the sea seemed to echo the captain’s cold voice, letting it vibrate through the masses of water, crashing down on her from all sides and leaving her helpless without an escape. Most of the time Beca woke with a stifled scream in her already pained throat, clutching her chest and trying to still her ragged breathing.

  
The only thing that made this whole mess a trifle better was the cat. 

  
It had to be some kind of joke that the pirates, and to be more accurate, ‘Stacie’, had actually followed through on her promise to throw a cat into the storage to keep the rats at bay. 

  
The first time Beca had noticed the pair of yellow eyes staring at her, examining her like some sort of prey, she hadn’t been able to suppress a startled yelp. The next few minutes had been spent tense and quiet while trying to figure out if someone had heard the slip. Fortunately, that hadn’t been the case, and the brunette was able to catch her breath (as well as possible in this fucking _shitehole_ on this fucking _ship_ with this fucking _crew_ on the fucking _ocean_ ).

  
It had also shown that she had to be more aware of her surroundings, because the pirates must have opened the door to let the cat in and she didn’t notice. That was dangerous, and it could cost the brunette’s life.

  
The cat was a fluffy thing, unlike the stray cats Beca had always chased in the village. She couldn’t quite make out its colour and gender, so she just named the animal Biscuit – the furball seemed to like the name, purring when Beca called it quietly and coming to get some petting.

  
With Biscuit as the only company in the dark storage, the days seemed to stretch and blend into each other. It didn’t take long for her stomach to completely protest against the raw potatoes – that was the moment Beca knew she had to come up with something else.

  
-

  
The wood creaked when Beca stepped onto it – she grimaced and continued sneaking down the corridor. If she was right (and she prayed to god that she was), then the ship’s kitchen had to be close-by. Memorizing old construction plans of ships came in handy right now, even if her father had told her time after time that she wouldn’t need it. Ha. Even now it felt good to prove him wrong, considering her situation wasn’t… the best.

  
The decision to search for the kitchen had been over-hasty, exactly the thing Beca had sworn to try to prevent, but it hadn’t come back to bite her in the butt (yet). After the pirates had gone to bed the brunette had given in to her empty stomach. Nobody had walked in her corridor during the nights since she had been on the ship, and with some luck it would stay the same this night.

  
So Beca had pressed against the door with her whole weight, exhaling in relief when the door opened. Under the curious eyes of Biscuit she had climbed out of the storage, loosing her balance and almost falling back down the stairs. The cat had trailed upstairs behind her, brushing up against her legs once and vanishing into the shadows, leaving the brunette behind.

  
So Beca had gulped and followed, and now she was here, on a higher level of the ship, several corridors away from her original hideaway. The kitchen should be behind that door … but it could also be the sleeping area for most of the pirates. Well – the brunette tried to calm her breathing – she would find out soon enough.

  
With trembling hands Beca opened the door, always ready to bolt and seek refuge in the storage. Then the scent of spicery hit her nostrils and she relaxed. In front of her was the kitchen, small, dark and (most importantly) devoid of any living human being. Biscuit meowed happily, strutting into the room and behind two small boxes. A squeak echoed mere seconds later, and Biscuit reappeared, now with a mouse between the jaws, looking pleased with itself.

  
Beca chuckled and began to search for something to eat. A few minutes later she congratulated herself – this impromptu trip had been the best idea she had for a very long time. On the sturdy table in front of her lay a small cheese wheel, some hard-boiled eggs and a few stripes of salted meat, which would suffice for a few days before she would have to come again. Taking too much could raise suspicion among the kitchen staff and prompt a search for a thief on the ship – nothing Beca would like to provoke. Taking less would benefit her more in the long run.

  
The brunette nodded to herself and began to put the items into a small bag she had found on the second day in the storage. Then she sneaked out of the room, quietly closing the door and making her way back to the hideaway.

  
It took her everything she had to not just devour half the food the moment she was back in her quiet, dark corner. Once most of the items were stored away safely, Beca allowed herself to eat one of the eggs and a bit cheese. Her stomach rumbled happily and she sighed, spreading out on one of the sacks and slowly dozing off. This had been a huge success – maybe she had a chance.

  
-

  
“I told you I didn’t let the little demon in!”

  
“So you’re saying he just opened the door himself and strolled into my kitchen?”

  
“I’m _saying_ that I didn’t do anything!”

  
“Back in my village my brother tried to sell me for a chicken once.”

  
“ – That has _nothing_ to do with this, Flo.”

  
Inaudible whisper, then-

  
“We don’t want to see a demon, thank you, Lilly”, a new voice added.

  
“Yeah no thanks.”

  
The group stopped in front of the door. Beca held her breath, covered in a new cloud of dust. 

  
“How did he even get out there? Everyone knows they have to watch out that he stays downstairs…”

  
Clueless murmur.

  
“Stace, can you help me here?”

  
“Yeah sure, wait!”

  
Someone coughed ‘whipped’, but Stacie didn’t seem to hear it.

  
The door was opened and two women went downstairs, the other three voices staying above Beca’s head and talking quietly. Beca didn’t move, starring at a barrel in front of her with wide eyes. 

  
“You little rascal”, Stacie murmured. “You should stay down here and catch rats, not eat our food.”

  
The other woman chuckled. “Just as hoggish as the owner.”

  
“Well no wonder when you tire me out all the time...”

  
“You don’t complain, do you now?”

  
Stacie laughed, then she cursed. “He scratched me! Can you believe that?” A meow. “Oh, don’t play all innocent now.”

  
“Just let him down, and I can kiss it better”, the other woman said. Stacie seemed to do just that, because mere seconds later Beca could hear them.

  
Then Biscuit appeared next to her, meowing and pushing his head against her hand to get some ear scratches. Oh no no no – the brunette panicked and tried to shove the cat away, but Biscuit didn’t give up that easily, meowing and demanding a petting.

  
Stacie’s friend sighed. “What is wrong with this cat?”

  
“Don’t care, maybe he found a rat”, Stacie mumbled.

  
“Hey lovebirds, hurry up!”, someone yelled down the stairs. “Cap wanted to talk with us!” The voice sounded familiar – it was this Amy who apparently worked in the kitchen.

  
Stacie let out a groan. “Some day I’m gonna kill her, I swear.”

  
“You won’t because then I will order you down to the kitchen. Do you know how difficult it is to find a somewhat decent cook?”

  
“You can always order Lilly to cook.”

  
“And risk unknowingly eating a human or something like that? Definitely not.”

  
“Bu- “ 

  
“Are you guys banging or what? Get your skinny butts upstairs!”

  
Both women groaned and climbed out of the storage. The group made their way back to the deck, leaving Beca in a new cloud of dust and dirt while a new cough tried to make its way up her throat. Seriously, how could there be so much dust on this ship?

  
-

  
The next five days passed without major incidents. Beca stayed in the storage, cold and a bit miserable, but less so than during her first days on the ship. The worsening of her coughing worried her, but at least she had a full stomach and Biscuit as company. 

  
Biscuit was a joy to have around. The little guy was a mischievous thing, trying to jump Beca when she wasn’t looking, and not afraid to use his claws when he wanted to make his displeasure known. Sometimes he _did_ catch a rat, bringing it back to her and looking very pleased with himself. Beca adored him.

  
From time to time there Stacie would come down to check on the cat, making sure Biscuit had enough water and promising him that he would be allowed on deck again when the storage was rat-free (and only if he behaved).

  
Everything was fine, until Beca’s hope to get off the ship undetected and in one piece took a serious blow when she found out that they would make for a port in three weeks at the earliest. It had been the morning of her tenth day, after eating the last of her food, and Stacie and Amy had talked about it while walking in her corridor. She had been almost too busy trying not to sneeze from the dust to register the words, and when she did, cold dread filled her. It would be nearly impossible to stay hidden on the pirate ship for three weeks! And that would be the earliest the brunette could hope for, if the captain decided that three weeks were enough.

  
Beca spent the rest of the day brooding on her potato sacks, listening to the hollering on deck and welcoming sleep when it finally came upon her.

  
-

  
Stealing food in the middle of the night became more dangerous over time – Amy had held a furious speech after two weeks on the ship, promising that should she ever catch the person who continued to rob her of her precious groceries, the bastard would be lucky to ever experience a woman’s company again.

  
There had been a few close calls for Beca. One time she was nearly found when she couldn’t hold back a cough after someone walked above her head, cursing dust and the person who was in charge of keeping everything clean around here as the person in the corridor stopped, trying to find out where the noise had come from. Another time a tired pirate exited the sleeping quarters near the kitchen and made his way on the deck, all the while overlooking the tiny figure that had crouched down into the door frame of the kitchen, pressing its back against the wood as if it was trying to merge with the hard material.

  
Beca’s nightmares felt more realistic that night, with huge faceless people who overpowered her while she tried to run away, with Amy’s threat echoing through her mind and Stacie’s voice mocking her futile tries of escape.

  
-

  
When Beca went out to steal herself a few meals for the fourth time, a new, heavy lock sent her back to her hideaway with an empty stomach and a thumping heart. She had figured that it would be merely a matter of time before her luck ran out, but that didn’t make it any better.

  
The raw potatoes would have to suffice again.

  
-

  
As Beca had predicted, the fucking potatoes did _not_ suffice. 

  
She groaned and threw one arm over her eyes, ignoring Biscuit’s attempts of getting her attention through him nudging her with his nose. Her stomach felt like a gaping hole, empty and ready to devour everything that would come into its reach – well, everything except potatoes. 

  
The ship had sailed for at least five weeks now, with no end in sight. No one of the crew seemed to be faced with this in the slightest, still hollering and joking around with each other, bawling shanties and throwing curses around. Sometimes Beca almost forgot that these people on the ship were pirates, eavesdropping on their conversations about anything and everything – but then she remembered the stowaway that had to be laying in some shark’s stomach right now, and it was enough to sober her up.

  
Biscuit pulled the brunette out of her thoughts by jumping on her belly, ignoring the way she doubled over, and pushing a dead rat in her face. 

  
“God, are you serious right now?”, Beca hissed, pushing the rat away. The potato sack scrooped as she turned her back on the cat, rolling into a small ball and ignoring the grumbling sound of her stomach. 

  
A mere moment later the brunette found herself face to face with the rat again, pushed in her direction by Biscuit’s nose. Beca looked at the rat, then the cat. His big yellow eyes stared back, then he nudged the rat again, looking at her invitingly while the mess of flesh and bloody fur got turned on its other side.

  
A chuckle fought its way out of her sore throat. “Thank you, buddy, but I’m good.”

  
Biscuit cooked his head, meowing softly. 

  
“Seriously, I’m not desperate enough yet to share your food.”

  
-

  
The feeling of biting cold that could not be dispelled returned on the second morning without food. Beca emptied one of the sacks to have something like a sleeping bag to help her stay warm in the stowage, but it didn’t help much.

-

  
Biscuit climbed into the sack on the third night, pressing himself in her side. She slept better that night, accompanied by the cat’s purring and it’s calming heartbeat.

  
-

  
Beca didn’t know when exactly the fever came. It could be on the fourth day or the sixth, after Stacie came down to let Biscuit out. He didn’t return.

  
Her dreams that night were strange, full of blue and black shadows that tried to grab her, but she didn’t remember them when she woke again.

  
-

  
Beca didn’t know what day it was when she opened her eyes. The rough fabric of her improvised sleeping bag hurt whenever it brushed against one of the rare spots of naked skin, and her clothes – rags now, really – were damp with cold sweat. She tried to push a strand of brown dirty hair out of her face, but her hand wouldn’t obey, not able to grasp the hair because it wouldn’t open wholly.

  
It felt like it took her half a day to stand up and make her way to the barrel with the horrendous drink, swaying on her feet while the barrels and boxes around her became blurred and the shadows in the far corners of the room tried to grab her. When she finally did she couldn’t find the strength to get back to her make-shift bed behind the cover. Her knees buckled and the brunette slid down the boxes next to her, falling to the hard floor. 

  
Beca looked up at the sturdy, dark wood above her head. What a stupid way to die.

  
-

  
Something wet on her cheek woke her, cold and warm at the same time. Beca willed herself to open her eyes, only to look back at huge yellow ones. She closed her eyes. The cat resumed to lick her face and dragged its tongue down the cheek to her chin, then up to her forehead.

  
There were people somewhere above her – she could her their voices and their steps, drawing nearer – but she didn’t care. Why was she here again? The animal on her chest purred, and the brunette managed to lightly pet it with a hand, smiling when it butted its head against her palm. 

  
“I swear you have to see this, she just lays there! I wouldn’t have found her if the cat had not scratched against the door for the better half of the morning!”

  
The steps came closer, loud and hurried.

Beca sat up slowly, letting the cat sit in her lap. Her body hurt and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, white and soft.

  
“I think she still breathes, but she looks like she’s dead. You have to help me get her to CR and then we have to inform the captain.”

  
A person appeared at the top of the stairs, throwing a shadow down into the storage. 

  
“I can’t believe we have another stowaway. The captain will not be pleased…”

  
The captain… That was right, she was on a ship. She was on a ship, and she had to hide because… because something happened, and there had been another person that… had been in a similar situation as her. But what had that been?

  
A figure climbed down the stairs. 

  
Beca’s head began to pound. What had happened to the stowaway? 

  
Another person followed. 

  
The light from above refracted on some metallic object hanging from the first person’s hip. She squinted, trying to make out what it was. What had happened to the stowaway?

  
A woman crouched down in front of her. Beca looked at her hip. It was a saber.

  
The woman seemed to say something, moving her mouth and gesturing to Beca, but all she could do was staring with wide eyes while the terrifying screams of the keelhauled man echoed through her mind, blowing away the soft cotton that had occupied it mere moments ago. 

  
Pirates. She was on a pirate ship, and they had killed someone who had stolen a few stripes of meat, laughing while he drowned, throwing him into the ocean for the sharks to feed upon, and she had stolen more than just meat, and surely they would kill her too, or torture her, or rape her, or – 

  
“ – and then we’re bringing you to the captain.”

  
Beca looked up tremulous. The pirate was staring at her, obviously waiting for an answer. Her brows furrowed when she didn’t get one, mustering the girl in front of her with an unsure glance.

  
“Do you understand me?”

  
Silence.

  
The woman turned to the person behind her, also a woman, seemingly looking for help or another idea. The saber at her hip glinted in the dusky light. 

  
“Maybe she doesn’t speak our langu- ” Beca moved while the back was turned to her. There had been no conscious thought, just the fear that propelled her to do something, to not end like the unlucky man who had been caught weeks ago.

  
Her weight threw the woman kneeling in front of her out of balance and she fell next to the pirate, bumping her elbow on the hard floor during the process. The other woman yelled and tried to come near her, but Beca grabbed the saber and held it to the pirate’s throat. The weapon was heavier then expected and her arm muscles strained, protesting against the unfamiliar weight.

  
The woman jerked to a halt. The threat was clear.

  
The grind of the saber trembled against the pirate’s skin as Beca got the woman to get up again, all the while getting pierced by the malignant glances the other threw at her. Beca started to retreat backwards to the stairs, tugging the grumbling pirate with her. The other advanced slowly, keeping one hand on her own saber. The moment the brunette reached the stairs the woman darted forwards, sending Beca into a panic. She shoved the pirate in her way and bolted upstairs while the two women tumbled to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs, shouting curses and warning calls for the crew on deck. 

  
Beca stumbled on the final step but managed to catch herself in the last moment. A loud _bump_ resounded from within the storage as she let the trap door fall closed, followed by a crash. She didn't stop to find out what had happened, tightening her grip on the saber and starting to run. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah she was found who would have guessed... certainly not me.
> 
> If you guys have tips on how to write better action or believable feelings regarding fear for one's life, i'm all ears. 
> 
> Also damn it is hard to write scenes where everyone is one gender. Which she or her did I mean? Who knows? Certainly not me. Again.
> 
> Peace and out, dudes.
> 
> (PS: I waaas slightly drunk while updating this (from my mobile Phone no less), so maybe i overlooked some things. Just let me know.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a new chapter, yay! See you at the end.

Blood pulsed in her ears as Beca rounded another corner, slipping over wet floor and nearly crashing into the wall. Her sore throat hurt, reacting poorly to the cold air that was greedily sucked in by her lungs, trying to provide her body with the resources to make a successful escape. The stolen saber made her arm ache, straining to carry the unfamiliar weight, but she didn’t let go of the weapon.

She could hear how more and more people began to shout and trample all around the ship, the noises resounding through the corridors to meet her ears, blending into the thunderous beats of her heart. It seemed to pound to the rhythm of her thoughts, whispering _fuck fuck fuck_ to her panicked mind so that it wasn’t able to grasp one coherent shred of a plan. 

The corridor parted into a right and a left passage, forcing the brunette to a stumbling halt. Her chest heaved while she tried to come to a decision, looking both hallways up and down frantically. 

Which path should she take? Which path?!

The yelling from the corridor she had come from got louder – apparently the two women had already climbed out of the storage and started to chase after her. 

She darted down the right corridor and around another corner just to come to a dead stop again when she tumbled into a body, bringing her and the other person to a fall.

The other person groaned and muttered a curse, and Beca realized with growing horror that she had run into Stacie, the pirate who had fed the cat ( _Biscuit_ , some unhelpful part of her mind whispered). The other woman’s eyes grew huge when she looked the girl up and down, then they narrowed.

“You’re not one of ours.”

Beca gulped and tried to sidestep the pirate, but Stacie was up again in a flash and reached out, prompting the smaller girl to yank the saber up with both arms in a desperate attempt to keep her at bay. Stacie grunted and stumbled as the blade made contact with her arm, and Beca used this moment to duck under her arms, rushing to leave the cursing pirate behind her.

“Hey! Wait!”

Beca didn’t stop, climbing another flight of stairs. She had lost the last bit of orientation she had possessed before her run-in with Stacie, and now the brunette just tried to get away from the other pirates. 

Another splitting corridor. Right.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Le– angry yelling. Right.

Beca cursed internally as she followed the corridor only to see that it ended in a staircase that seemed to lead on deck. No no no – she couldn’t hide on deck… But it didn’t really matter, now that the crew knew she was here they would turn every single thing on the ship over to find her, should she even manage to find another hiding place.

The running steps behind her grew louder again. Beca bolted upstairs.

She wished she didn’t.

White light blinded her, causing her to stumble on the last step. After living in the dark for at least six weeks, stepping out into the sun was like stepping into a hot bath after spending the whole day outside during a snowstorm in undergarments. It hurt on an entirely different level.

Beca squinted and tried to find her footing again, blinking hard against the dark spots that continued to dance in her vision. 

Suddenly a rough hand grabbed her arm. Beca screamed and fought to wind herself out of the steel grip, kicking wildly to get the man to let her go. He groaned as her knee made contact with his most private parts, doubling over and pulling his hand back to cover himself.

Beca staggered away, as far away from him as possible, keeping the saber pointed at him. Trampling echoed around the deck as more and more pirates gathered around her, drawing their own weapons, guns and sabers and daggers. She retreated slowly, shoving the deadly metal into the way of every person who dared to come near her.

“Stay back! Don’t come near me!”

One of the pirates tried to sneak up behind her and she waved her blade in front of his face, mere hairbreadths from his nose. He jumped back with a surprised growl, getting out of her range. 

“I said stay back!”, Beca screamed, stumbling backwards herself. The tip of the saber scraped against the wood of the deck – she made an effort to heft it upwards again with both arms, but her muscles didn’t comply. Black spots began to dance through her eyes a second time.

Her damp back met with something hard and sturdy – it took her a few fearful moments to realize that she had bumped into the fore mast and not another person.

“Girl, lay down the saber.” A woman approached her, arms outstretched with her palms showing upwards to signal that she was not armed. She took one step at a time, drawing nearer slowly as if she feared for Beca to jump overboard at the smallest sign of danger. Beca pressed her back into the unyielding wood, trembling. She had nowhere to go.

“Don’t come near me”, she whispered, willing her arms to obey and raise her stolen weapon again, but the hilt slipped out of her sweat-drenched hands. It fell to the floor with a clattering, final noise. The woman took another step, only to stop when a new voice echoed over deck.

“What in the devil’s name is going on here?!”

Every head on deck whipped into the other direction as a loud bang signalled the rough opening and closing of a heavy door. Beca couldn’t see what was happening, to small and exhausted to overlook the pirates.

The crowd seemed to part, people backing away to make room for the new arrival, lowering their heads and mumbling a respectful “captain” here and there. Dread filled Beca as the person came nearer, realizing that she truly had no way of getting out of this unscathed.

The woman who had tried to placate her stepped to the side with a head tilt only to reveal another woman, dressed in brown trousers and a white linen shirt covered by a black vest. A captain’s head found its home on her red hair that fell down her shoulders in soft curls, and her feet were adorned by a worn pair of boots.

Beca shrank back when they made eye contact – the look in her startling blue eyes made her sweat. They were just – just too intense, scanning her, turning her inside out.

The captain turned to the woman beside her. “This”, she pointed a finger at the brunette, “ _this_ is the girl who injured Stacie and caused Ashley a concussion?”

“I’m Jessica”, someone mumbled in the back of the crowd, but hushed when the captain threw a pointed glare over her back.

“And you stand around here like she’s a threat! What are you, pirates or some wishy-washy lubbers?” The woman marched up and down the rows, gesticulating wildly in Beca’s direction. “The girl looks half dead, and here you stand, shitting your pants in front of her!”

Embarrassed shuffling. While every pirate ducked their heads, Beca crouched down to pick the saber up unnotic– 

“Put that down.” 

Maybe not unnoticed. Her head jerked up to meet the captain’s eyes again, only to sway on her feet, her malnourished body not keeping up with the sudden movement. A wave of heat rolled over her, leaving her panting and trembling against the mast, her only object of support. This wild chase had taken a huge toll on her body.

“You’re going to impale yourself. Put it down.”

Beca shook her head, unwilling to part from the weapon that seemed to play a major role in her quest of survival. Sweat rolled down her back, making her shiver. The captain growled, patience wearing thin. 

“You can barely stand on your feet, much less handle a saber. This is my last warning, girl. Put it down, or I will do it for you.”

They stared at each other, five feet apart. The brunette continued to sway, but she didn’t obey. When it became clear that she wouldn’t, the captain snapped.

Beca barely had time to react, flinching back as the other woman advanced on her. She tried to yank her weapon in the air, but the captain just _tsked_ and pushed it aside with the flat of her hand, grabbing her wrist to twist it. A choked-up scream made its way up her sore throat when the pain registered, and the weapon clattered to the floor a second time. Nausea followed, and Beca doubled over, managing to hold it in. The floor became blurred and the voices fuzzy, darkness creeping into her line of sight as she tried to stay on her feet. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

A hand appeared in front of her eyes, slender and elegant. Beca whimpered and tried to back away, but another hand at her back held her in place, keeping her from putting more distance between herself and the other woman. A new heat wave caused her to whimper again, desperately holding onto the last bit of strength to stay on her feet. She knew when she had lost the battle, colours and forms mixing to swirls before her vision.

Surprisingly concerned blue eyes were the last thing Beca saw before her body gave out and made its short journey earthwards.

-

Beca fell in and out of consciousness. 

The most she gathered from the times she was awake was that she laid on a bed, soft and warm and entirely different then the things she was used to by now (she wasn't quite sure what that was, but it must have been bad, for her whole body seemed to protest at the mere thought). Her throat was sore most of the time, and her limbs felt like someone had taken a hammer and beat her soundly, but she was warm, damp from the sweat caused by the fever, but _warm_ , and that was everything she cared for.

Sometimes she remembered that she was on a pirate ship and (surprisingly, yes) not dead yet. Those times she tried to sit up, to make a break for it – for what, the brunette wasn't sure – but strong arms pressed her back on the mattress with practiced ease. Most of the times Beca was too weak to fight back, but a few times she struggled, trying to break free. Her affords proved fruitless time and time again, though it elicited a few chosen words from her overseer. The person who watched her seemed to change, and thus the words changed too, from curses to encouragements to curses again.

The moments she remembered most vividly were those of sparkling blue and soft chuckles, sure hands that pressed her back into the bed and a voice that told her to keep fighting, to not give up, to _live_.

When Beca succumbed to sleep after these encounters she slept soundly, without the disturbance of harsh dreams that only waited to haunt her again.

-

The headache was killing her, she was sure of it. Beca groaned and turned, and groaned again when she moved her arms to shield her eyes from the light. It felt like heavy stones were tied to them, and she had to muster up her whole strength to raise them. God, what had she done for them to feel like this?

She stayed like this for a few minutes, basking in the coziness of the bed and the silence of the room, trying not to move her aching limbs.  
When the brunette felt like she had enjoyed her moment to the fullest, she sat up slowly, ready to inspect the room. 

Humble would be the first thing that came to her mind as Beca looked around her. The bed she laid on was bigger than the average, but simple. A wooden wardrobe and a desk made of the same material, parchments spilled all over it. The set-up on the opposite side of the window resembled something like a cot, with a crumbled-up duvet and a pillow that was closer to fall on the floor than to remain on its designated place.

Outside she could her the sea, gentle waves crashing against wood while they continued their journey to god knows where. That meant Beca was still on the ship. She looked around again, trying to find some kind of clue on what happened to her. Maybe she would find something interesting on the desk? 

The brunette began to push the blanket back, ready to swing herself out of the bed – only to hiss in pain when something held back her right leg, causing it to twist into an unnatural position. Beca fought to remove the blanket, kicking it back with her left foot. What she found left her speechless – after a moment she let herself fall back against the mattress with a load groan, burying her face under her arms. 

One of those mongrels had fucking _cuffed_ her to one of the bed posts, making sure she couldn’t leave the bed, using a chain so short she considered herself lucky that she had managed to not fall out of it for it surely would have ripped her fucking leg of. What kind of degenerate would use such a short chain? What if Beca had to get up quickly if the situation called for it? What if they got attacked, or the ship sunk, or Beca had t– had to go somewhere really fast apparently, she realized with growing discomfort as her bladder made itself known. 

She looked around frantically, trying to find something that could help her break the chain, but all the brunette could see was a hairbrush and some kind of needle or hair pin. She sighed. Well, that would have to do.

Beca grabbed the pin and focused on the cuff, poking around at the lock. A click echoed around the room surprisingly fast and she sat up, a triumphant look on her face – that morphed into one of confusion when she still couldn’t open the cuff around her ankle. “What the…”

“Do you need help?”

She nearly got whiplash from the way she turned her head.

The woman leaning on the doorframe chuckled, mustering Beca with polite interest. Beca starred back, unsure on how to react. She didn’t seem to be armed, so that was… something.

“Who are you?” 

The woman pushed herself from the door, and Beca noticed how her muscles strained from the movement, carrying her nearer to the bed – wait, what? She scrambled to push herself back against the headboard, away from the other, but the cuff hindered her movement, leaving her in some awkward half spread position. The woman’s eyes twinkled while she sat down.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” She paused, then winked. Red curls fell over her shoulder. “Well, at least if you don’t want me to.”

Beca stared back incredulous. Was she – was she serious?

“I'm glad you made it. Would have been a shame for you to die”, she continued. Blue eyes met Beca's, wandered over her form, then jumped back to her face.

“And to answer your question, I think the more pressing issue is, who are _you_?”

Beca’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t tell the truth, could she? It would surely be dangerous for her if the pirates knew she was the daughter of a wealthy businessman.

“I’m… My name is Beca.”

“Beca who?”

She shifted nervously. The chain clanked.

“No last name. Just Beca.”

Now it was the woman’s turn to look incredulous.

“Do you expect me to believe this?”

Beca stayed silent – she didn’t know what she should say to make her believe her. The other let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head.

“So, ‘Just Beca’… What are you doing on my ship?”

Beca grimaced. “It was an accident.”

The redhead looked at her as if she expected her to continue to talk. When nothing came, she stood up and started to pace through the room. Beca watched how the sunlight seemed to ignite her locks, making it look like her hair was on fire.

“So you just end up on a pirate ship, starve yourself to near death, cause some serious injuries to some of my best men and nearly die again by a fever through some kind of _accident_?!”

Okay, this rubbed Beca the wrong way. “Look, I didn’t want to be on your dumb ship! Do you think it was fun down there? I nearly suffocated from dust alone!”

The woman glared, and Beca realized that maybe she shouldn’t insult her ship. Or her.

She relented, watching her hands fumble in her lap as she mumbled out an explanation. “It was dark, and two guys were following me, and I needed a hiding place. I fell asleep, and when I woke up the ship was already sailing. And when I wanted to come out, you guys threw a man overboard because he stole some meat. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.” When Beca looked up she could see that the redhead’s expression had softened somewhat, though she still didn’t look pleased.

“How long have you been on the ship?”

The brunette stilled her fidgeting. That was a good question.

“...maybe seven weeks?”

The woman groaned. “We’ve been on sea for nine weeks now. That means you must come from the last village where we stocked up.”

Beca stared at her wide-eyed. “Nine weeks?!”

When the other nodded, she cursed. Her father had to think by now that she was dead, vanished without a trace. Did he send search parties out to find her, or did he just accept that she left him, like her mother did a long time ago? At least her mother had the opportunity to say goodbye, she thought. She wanted nothing more than to get back, to leave this nightmare behind her.

“Okay look, I’m really sorry for the troubles I’ve caused. Just let me leave at the next port, and you’ll never see me again, I promise”, Beca said. Maybe they would let her go – they didn’t kill her, and if she had a bit luck, just a bit, then – 

Dread filled her when the other woman laughed. It was a nice laugh, some part of Beca’s brain noted, one that would make Beca laugh too, under normal circumstances – but there was nothing funny nor normal about this situation.

“Girl, I can't just let you walk from my ship after the stunt you pulled. I do have to keep the respect of my crew.”

The woman sauntered nearer, keeping her eyes on Beca.

“I can't just let you leave after you injured my men, even if you just were scared.”

The brunette felt like she looked right through her as she hovered over Beca.

“No, you'll stay on this ship.” The redhead cooked her head to one side, watching how Beca began to fumble with her hands again, trying desperately to keep her cool. Warm hands covered the brunettes, and her breath hitched. “Amy is still pissed that you managed to steal her food. You will help her in the kitchen.”

She stood up and made her way to the door.

“So I'm a prisoner now?” Beca called after her, distraught clear in her voice.

The woman stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder, a carefree smile gracing her face. “Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure nothing happens to you. I'm going to send someone to bring you some food and take you to the toilet.”

She was nearly out the door when she turned. “Oh, and Beca?”

Beca lifted her head.

“You can call me Captain Beale... though I'm more commonly known as the Red Demon.”

She waved, and the brunette saw something glinting in her hand – a pin. Beca looked down at her empty hands, then up to Captain Beale again. A wink, and the door fell closed, leaving Beca alone and miserable, cuffed to a bed without a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo… what do you think?
> 
> (I find it really hard to write Chloe here, cause she has this bubbly personality but also not, like in PP2, and she has to stay calm to keep the respect of her crew, and aaaaahh - but i guess that it will get better the more i write.
> 
> And i just LOVE throwing Beca into situations where she is absolutely miserable. It's so much FUN. Just going with Murphy's law.)


End file.
